The Never King
by Zenith Aquilla
Summary: Captain Hook, after discovering Peter's affinity for Darling children, has spent the majority of his life trying to lure Pan to his doom by extorting their family tree. To his surprise, he discovers England yields no more Darlings, so he looks to America for fresh bait. Enter Winnifred Darland, more commonly known as Paige. A mistaken name will take her on the trip of a lifetime.
1. Pirates Indians and Lost Boys

"Come on. Five minutes. Five," Darlene pursed her lips, tapping her foot expectantly against the off-white tile.

"My mom said five o'clock. Not five o' five. She will literally kill me. I will be dead. Is five minutes in Hot Topic worth my life to you?" I raised my eyebrows to let her know exactly how ridiculous she was being.

"Puh-_lease_?" she moaned, "I _need_ a new hair color. It's been red for a week and a half. I cannot look like the Little Mermaid for another week. I think I'm going for dark turquoise next," she mused, suddenly lost in thought.

"Dark turquoise?" I squinted at her, "Is that even a thing?"

"Yes come _on_," she grabbed the back of my blouse, tugging me towards the haven of band shirts and punk jewelry. The first haunting chords of 'Welcome to the Black Parade' echoed throughout the store, and walking inside was like submerging in a sea of lilting tones and angsty lyrics.

"Punk! Over here!" Darlene called from the back.

"Paige…" I mumbled half-heartedly, "My name is Paige," but Darlene's obsession with the edgy earned me the permanent nickname. It made little to no sense seeing that Paige wasn't even my real name, it was my middle name. But there was no way I was going by Winnifred so Paige it was and Punk it was. Pushing through racks of Attack on Titan merchandise and less than friendly looking customers, my mouth fell open.

"Yeah, I know. I'm sort of afraid it'll fade to like a regular turquoise after a couple of days but…" but I wasn't listening to her. I was eyeing the wrack of five dollar buy one get one free Disney bras.

"What happened to five minutes?" Darlene smirked after roughly ten of me throwing around canary yellow Beauty and the Beast bras.

"The art is awful and I don't want Belle on my tit," I glared at her, "But I'm not going to- oh. My. God."

"What? What is it?" Darlene peered over my shoulder.

In my hands lay a beautiful concoction of black lace, original Peter Pan artwork, and a tiny turquoise bow.

"Check the size," I held my breath.

"Huh? Why me?"

"Literally 34C does not exist and I'm not emotionally ready for it to be the wrong size. Check the freaking tag," I explained calmly.

Reluctantly she pulled the paper close to her face, gazing through her black hipster glasses. Her expression was unreadable.

"…Well?" I bit my lip.

There was a dramatic pause. Riding the tense silence, she placed the garment into my outreaching hands.

"34C," she confirmed.

Resisting the urge to jump and laugh and scream and all sorts of other indicators of joy, I sprinted to the cash register, slamming the bra onto the table. The lady jumped, ruby red lip piercings jiggling with the movement. Sighing, she raked her hands through her mint green curls, "With the purchase of anything in the one dollar or less bin," she monotoned, "You can earn fifteen Hot Bucks…"

"Fine," I practically threw a bottle of eighty-seven cent black nail polish at her.

"Including tax your order comes out to six dollars and twenty eight cents," she looked up a me through thick bangs. Too small to use my debit card I dropped a ten on the counter, shouted 'keep the change', grabbed Darlene's hand a bolted.

"Great," Darlene rolled her thickly lined eyes, "Now your mom's gonna hate me all because of your Peter Pan fetish. Thanks Punk."

"First off, this is completely your fault," I ducked under a tray of fast food, weaving through the food court, "Second of all, I do _not _have a Peter Pan fetish. He's like twelve."

"Touchy touchy," she mused, a slight grin shadowing her eyes.

"FIFTEEN MINUTES!" as soon as I threw open the double doors, a wave of hot air hit me like a slap. And I'm not talking about the June night.

"Fif. Teen. Minutes," my mom repeated, glaring at me with a bitter distaste. Usually my mother was perfectly lovely, unless it involved tardiness. Or sloppiness. Or immaturity. Actually maybe she wasn't quite as lovely as I thought. Her one week spot was Darlene. Usually you'd think that a parent would feel hostile towards, or even threatened by, a seventeen year old girl with fickle opinions towards hair color and enough piercings for half a dozen more traditional girls. But no, she practically worshipped my best friend.

"Frightfully sorry Ms. Darland," Darlene bowed her head.

"Oh no no no no," my mom cooed, "I'm sure it wasn't your fault."

Darlene straightened confidently, a blinding smile dashing her lips. I rolled my eyes, pushing towards the passenger's seat.

"_Ahem_," my mother's voice halted my venture, "Sit in the back with your friend," she tsked, "And what's that?" she pointed to the Hot Topic bag I'd been trying to hide in the folds of my red flannel coat.

"Um," I flushed bright red, "It's just…"

Striding forward she pulled the bag out of my hands, gazing inside.

"Really?" she raised an eyebrow, dangling the bra over the bag. I blushed furiously, shoving it back inside, "Yes. Really," my voice dripped venom. Throwing the bag back into my arms, she strutted past me, collapsing into the front seat.

After we dropped Darlene off at her house I ran upstairs to my room, ripping off my shirt. Unclipping my bra I pulled the Peter Pan one over. Replacing my previous outfit with a lacey black camisole and grey sweatpants, I collapsed into bed. Tousling my curly bob of pinks and blues, my fingers connected with a hard bit that wasn't there before. I realized it was the little black bow I'd clipped in earlier. Electing to ignore it I flopped onto my stomach.

The color was fading out of my hair, the lighter colors being replaced with the original blonde. I giggled to myself. Maybe Darlene would let me patch it up with some of her 'dark turquoise'.

"GO TO BED!" my mother bellowed from downstairs. She must've heard me. Rolling my eyes I snuggled my Peter Pan pillow close to my face. In big black block letters it declared 'Never Grow Up', decorated with the silhouettes of Wendy, John, Michael, and Peter. Arching my back I gave my mind away to thoughts of pirates, Indians, and lost boys.

...

"What do you mean… there are no more Darlings?" Captain Hook looked up slowly, eyeing the scruffy gentleman who had spoken with a bitter distaste.

"Well um, you see sir," William Smee stammered, "You've taken them all."

Captain Hook waved his hand dismissively, "I suppose I'd settle with a boy Darling."

"Sir, you've- you've taken them too," Smee wrung out his hands, "I do say, you've completely severed their family tree. And with that Peter Pan saving all of…"

"PETER PAN?!" Captain Hook roared, burying his hook in the wood inches from Smee's bulbous nose, "IF YOU DON'T MIND MR. SMEE, I DON'T CARE TO HEAR ABOUT _PETER PAN!_"

"W-well, I suppose we've never tried the Americas," Smee backed away.

"Hm," Captain Hook rubbed his chin with his good hand, eyeing the map on the far wall, "We sail…" he circled his hand over the map, "Here," he stabbed the paper at random.

"Mitch_ee_gan you say?" Smee squinted through his full moon spectacles at the map, "I'll alert the crew."

"Very well," the Captain waved him out.

"B-BOYS!" Smee called. A group of ragtag men appeared like smoke, drifting out of the very woodwork of the ship. Each towered over Wiliam Smee by at least twice his height, and his throat suddenly went as dry as the salty air, "S-set sail for Meet-chee-gan."


	2. The Death of Peter Pan

"Wuzzat?" I slurred. As if in response another two quick taps echoed off the wall. I moaned, stretching my back I tumbled out of bed, "Hullo?"

Another tap, quick and sharp as the last. Maybe someone was throwing rocks at my window. I rubbed my chin. That'd be kinda romantic. Clambering up onto my window seat I squinted outside. There was no one there. Pressing my nose against the glass I exhaled, letting the slow fog disperse before retreating back to my face like a heartbeat. A sudden dread spread through my body. I had to rationalize it. Probably an animal or… or… Darlene.

I blinked. It suddenly made sense. She'd made my house her midnight rest stop before. The dread was quickly replaced with a dull anger. I considered just going back to bed, but she'd just keep tapping on my window. With a defeated sigh I unlatched the window, throwing open the double doors. A cool breeze immediately rushed in like it had been waiting the entire time and not my dumb best friend.

"_Darlene_?!" I whisper yelled.

Silence. It was becoming painfully obvious that she did not in fact want to see me, but simply annoy me at two in the morning. I had to let her know that I was on to her. That I wasn't scared.

Shifting my weight I leaned out the window, resting my hands on the ledge. My entire upper body was officially outside.

"_Darlene?!_" no answer, "_Darlene if you don't answer me right now I'll_…" before I could finish a heavily tattooed arm whizzed through my peripheral vision. With a silent scream I fell backwards, losing my balance and crashing off the window seat. Scampering backwards my head slammed into my bed and I shot to my feet.

Through the window appeared a man that had to be at least 6'5, bare chested, and every inch of it coated in dark ink. I started breathing heavily, looking for any means of self-defense. Shadows lingered around the window. He wasn't alone. Without breaking eye contact I scrambled over my bed, putting a meager barrier between us. He grinned, cracking his knuckles and I felt myself visibly pale.

Hoping the bed would give me enough time I rushed towards the door. Yanking it open I threw myself into the hallway, directly into another man. I turned to run but he fastened strong arms around my waist, pulling me into the air. I twisted relentlessly, freeing one arm. Kicking at anything I could connect with. I used my freed arm to try to pull myself out of his iron grip. He stumbled down the hallway, more men crowding around. Where was my mom? Was she okay?

I kicked out with all the force I could muster. Instead of meeting more resistance, I felt the arms loosen before disappearing all together. Relief flooded through me until I realized where solid ground had been before the staircase towered. Landing hard on the top step the nerves in my arm screamed. Unable to stop I tumbled down the stairs. Crashing head first into the adjacent wall I came face to face with a pair of sturdy brown boots and then nothing.

…

The captain crouched down carefully, lifting the unconscious girl's chin in a careful inspection, "Her hair is short," he scrutinized her face, brushing her bangs out of her eyes.

"I think she'll do," Smee scrambled over a fallen stack of book, "Put up quite a fight she did," he adjusted his spectacles.

"You are positive this is Wendy Darling?" Hook lowered her chin.

"On my honor cap'n," Smee nodded hastily.

Hook nodded distractedly, squinting out the window at the end of the hall. Adjusting his hat he whipped around, once again all business, "Collect her," he waved dismissively and immediately a handful of men ran over, the quickest one lifting her over his shoulder as one might carry a rug. Nodding his approval the crew trailed back out the window, leaving him alone in the ruins of a once impeccable hall.

Gingerly bending down he lifted a shattered picture off the floor. Between the spider web of cracks that covered the image, a lovely young couple beamed. Sitting between them was a grinning toddler with a head of bouncing blonde curls. Snarling, he plunged his hook into the child's face, the sharpened end going straight through the frame. Satisfied he tossed the destroyed photo onto the ground, stepping delicately over the shattered glass. The effect was complete, and the injun sleep voodoo has served its purpose well. Captain Hook had a great respect for adults, and disturbing their slumber didn't interest him. On the morrow he'd return the remainder of the bottle and prepare for the death of Peter Pan.

…

"Richard," Mrs. Darland squinted, shaking her husband's shoulder, "Rich wake up. I think something's wrong."

Protected by a fluffy pink bathrobe she trekked up the stairs, hiding behind the thick wall of her husband. He gripped a bat, knuckles white, wielding it in front of him like a sword.

"Oh my god," Mrs. Darland breathed, eyeing the destroyed hallway. Rushing past her husband she burst into her daughter's room.

"Richard!" she sobbed. The bed was empty, the windows hanging open haphazardly. Mr. Darland leaned over, picking up the broken picture frame. His daughter's face had been scratched out, a hole breaking all the way through the back. Gasping he dropped it, falling to his knees.

"Winnie, my Winnie," Mrs. Darland sat cross legged on her daughter's bed like a child, holding the Peter Pan pillow close to her heart.

"Hello, 911?" her husband's voice drifted through the room, "My daughter is missing… No I don't think she ran away… ten minutes? Yes, thank you," walking in he placed an arm round his wife.

"I can't lose my daughter too… not both of them… no," she buried her face deep into Mr. Darland's chest.

"Shhh it's alright," he rubbed her hair, "It'll all be alright."


	3. Bait

"UmmmnuH PIRATES!" I screamed, shooting up. Pillows fell to the floor and the sheets crumpled under my fists. I was in a bed. Not a pirate ship or a brig or whatever. It had all been a dream.

"Glad to see you awake my dear."

I screeched, falling completely off the bed in a tangle of sheets. Hook raised an eyebrow, turning slightly from his piano to eye the situation. Scared and embarrassed I slowly got to my feet, crossing my arms protectively over my chest.

"Hm, no denial? You are indeed different. Or perhaps you've never heard of me?" he turned back to the organ, playing a dramatic chord.

"N-no," I coughed, my voice hoarse from such a long silence, "I think I have a pretty good idea," I wasn't going denial crazy because while I was sixteen and had stopped believing Peter a while ago, it didn't mean I didn't sort of wish that he'd still come. Plus, even if it was a crazy dream, there's a good chance that I was currently I Neverland, which I certainly wasn't complaining about.

"Why am I here?" I decided to go with a more blunt approach.

"Why Wendy my dear, why else? Bait," he smirked, not even bothering to look up.

"Um, my name's not Wendy first of all, and what exactly does 'bait' entail?" I tilted my head.

"Wendy? Wendy Darling?" he seemed to be suddenly growing angry.

"No, actually. Winnifred Darland."

"SMEE!" he roared, jumping to his feet. His knee crashed against the underside of the piano, followed by a string of curses. A meek 'coming captain' called from outside and Smee stumbled in.

"Yes?"

"Winnifred… Darland?" he tilted is head, "WINNIFRED DARLAND?"

I bit my lip, taking in an involuntary step back. He whipped his head around, and I swear for a moment his eyes were bright red. He seemed to calm slightly, "It matters not," he huffed, "At the bottom of the sea he won't be able to tell the difference."

I lost my decorum, "Excuse me… what?"

"You asked what 'bait' entails? Hm, picture this. You, bound, dangling in a sack above Cannibal Cove. Pan comes to your rescue- of course," his mood was improving with each word, "And you both drown in Neverland's Sea," he punctuated it with another haunting chord, "How does that sound my dear?"

I gaped at him, backing towards the door, "Well, you know I'd love to stay and chat but…" before I could even think of running out the door burst open, grabbing at my arms and legs, "NO!" I screeched but a gag was shoved over my mouth. It smelled odd almost like… like…

I drowsily opened my eyed, the effects of the chloroform wearing off. Everything was too dark and too… cramped. Why was everything so close?

I tried to get up but the ground pitched under my feet like ocean waves. Wait. Hook. Neverland. The sack. No…

I went to shove at the walls but my arms were bound firmly behind my back. I screamed as the sack shook, rocking me violently back and forth. A cannon fired in the distance… or perhaps it was very close. I couldn't tell anymore. I was going to die. I let the thought roll around in my head. I was going to die. In the dark, alone. I started to hyperventilate. I was going to die.

"Wendy?!" I heard a voice exclaim in disbelief, "Let her go you black hearted scoundrel!"

"Well," Hook grinned, "Only if you insist."

And the world dropped out from under me.

…

Without a thought I dove down, deep into the waters of Cannibal Cove. Squinting through the salt water I looked desperately for anything that resembled the sack.

"I- I did it!" Hook's voice was distorted by the liquid grave, "Hat's off men! For an enemy lost."

A movement flashed in my peripheral vision and there it was, settling on the bottom of the sea. Propelling myself with all my energy I gripped the top of the bag, shooting upward with my last breath. Using my momentum I sailed over the Jolly Roger, grabbing Hook's hat and placing it firmly on my head.

"NO!" Hook cried in disbelief, "I _WON_!"

"Sorry, I don't speak codfish! Do you Tink?" she sailed beside me, a musical giggle contorting her tiny frame.

"COME BACK AND FIGHT LIKE A MAN!" Hook bellowed.

"I will!" I shouted back, "When you stop fighting like a codfish!"

Skidding to a stop my shoes glided across the sand. Gently depositing the bag on the ground I untied the top. The cloth fell away, but Wendy wasn't moving. Unsheathing my dagger I cut the bonds, untying her gag. Immediately she began retching salt water, a mixture of sea and bile puddling over the sand.

"Uh, Wendy I…" before I could finish she rose like lighting, slapping me with all her strength. It wasn't much but it was still completely uncalled for after I saved her, "What was…?"

"WHAT THE HELL?!" she interrupted, glaring at me.

"I… what? What's wrong?" I saved her. She shouldn't be so mad.

"Alright, let me give you a quick recap, okay? Sound good? Stop me if I'm wrong," she tried to calm herself with a deep breath, "When you're underwater… and you're gagged, you can't exactly breathe through your mouth. So the first thing your body does is try to breathe through your nose. Except wait! Being that you're underwater, that isn't really an option. So the first thing that happens when your body has a lot of water going to your lungs is you start choking."

"I understand that but…"

"No interrupting. Choking is not a one way process because again, the human body needs to breathe," she continued, "So, get this, _more _salt water goes to your lungs! And that's not even the best part. And then when your hero… when your hero _finally _comes, he _doesn't take you out of the sack. _Which is still _full of water_. Are we seeing the problem yet?"

"You're not Wendy," I concluded.

"And you're like twelve," she countered, "I guess we both get to be disappointed.

"I am in fact seventeen? I don't know where you're getting these facts," I squinted at her.

"Oh wow, more insightful comments from Peter Pan!" she smiled but it never reached her eyes, "To hear more go to 1-800-I'm a douchebag or visit our website for details."

"I… I don't… what? I feel like you're strongly misjudging my character," I frowned.

"Yeah, well I feel like I should go," she turned around, "Hey, I'll swing by the Jolly Roger. Maybe they'll kill me for real this time."

"Yeah, well _I'm_," I folded my arms, "Going to go back to my nice warm home, and have a nice warm meal, in my favorite chair, surrounded by _all. My. Friends._"

"I. Hope. It's. Lovely."

"Yeah. You have a good time to!" I shot back, proud of getting in the last word. She rolled her eyes, and began to walk away, "Hey wait, come on," I sighed, flying past her.

"What?" she glared, but she was starting to relent.

"Just- just come back with me, okay?" I couldn't just leave her. That wasn't how it worked.

"Fine. But I won't be your 'mother' or whatever, so…" she finally stopped.

"Why would you think I'd want you to be my mother?" I gave her a weird look.

She returned it with equal vigor, "Isn't that how it usually goes?"

"No, I have a better idea for you. I'll tell you about it when we get there. Come on!" I grabbed her arm and flew beside her as she ran. No, she'd be a pretty awful mother. What Neverland needs, is a king.

…

"How is she doctor?" Richard Darland paced the office, unhinged by countless hours of people magazine and white walls.

"We believe it's takotsubo cardiomyopathy, or broken heart syndrome. Emotional stress weakens the aortic valve until the heart is literally skipping beats. According to your file," the doctor, a balding man in his late forties, pulled a clip board from a nearby desk, "Your daughter has recently gone missing. Winnifred?"

"Yes," Richard took a shaky breath.

"And a few years back, seventeen to be exact? In nineteen ninety seven your wife experienced a miscarriage?"

"Yes… our son… Peter."

"You're lucky she isn't dead," the doctor nodded, "A stress induced coma…"

"When will she wake up?" Richard interrupted.

"We don't know…"

"May I see her?"

Trailing down the sterile white halls, room 3519 loomed like a bad storm. Opening the door, the doctor stepped aside to let Mr. Darland through. He collapsed beside his wife, gently pushing aside the IV that kept her alive. He took her hand, tightly interlocking their fingers.

"She's in a better place…" the doctor reassured him, "A happier place."

"_Never…_"

"What was that?" Mr. Darland pushed himself closer, bringing his ear next to her mouth, "Never what?"

"_Neverland._"


End file.
